


Not Going Back

by LilyRosePotter



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-23 22:58:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16168553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyRosePotter/pseuds/LilyRosePotter
Summary: Things that have surprised me about Los Angeles: a list by Jon Favreau





	Not Going Back

**Author's Note:**

> h/t JFavs circa 2015 for [the prompt](https://li.st/jonfavs/things-that-have-surprised-me-about-los-angeles-1Uqvx0OlwV4yPwcp84rKM4)

 

**1\. I spent far more minutes per day swearing profusely in DC traffic than I do here.**

 

“So I told him that if he wants to get cancelled before he-”

“God fucking damn it,” Jon slams on the brake. “Sorry, fucking DC drivers.”

“Move to LA,” Lovett says immediately.

“Working on it.” Jon grins at his phone, glad, for once that Lovett can’t see his face. Can’t tease him for the delight that’s all over it. “But you live in a city famous for it’s traffic, not sure that’s the selling point you want to lean on.”

“Eh,” Lovett audibly shrugs. By the sounds of it he’s pacing around his living room. “Also sunshine? And idiots with bad spec scripts-” and then he’s off again.

Jon honks idly at the tourist in front of him and settles in to listen.

 

 

**2.** **I don't miss the seasons and no longer believe people who say otherwise.**

 

“How many times do you think my mother is going to text me today?” Lovett whines, throwing his phone at the bag by Jon’s feet. He misses.

Jon sits up to fish it out of the sand, shaking it gingerly. “She’s not going to stop if you kill your phone. Then she’ll start calling _me_ worried you’re dead.”

“Fuck, you’re right,” Lovett sighs. “I stand by not going home for Thanksgiving but god, at what cost?”

“Andy’s plan to coerce ours to move out here is working nicely,” Jon observes. Andy and their dad are still in the water, and he _thinks_ Molly has taken Mom to wander the boardwalk. “-but that’s probably an even higher cost maneuver.”

“God no,” Lovett shudders. “I’ll take the guilt and keep crashing your family holidays instead.”

“You’re not crashing, you were invited,” Jon insists.

“Sure, sure,” Lovett laughs. “Is there more cornbread?”

 

 

**3.** **People drink less here, and I think they're on to something.**

 

“This band is-”

“Terrible?” Jon offers.

“I was going to say too loud, but that too!” Lovett yells in his ear.

“Wanna get out of here?”

“What?”

“Want to-” Jon gives up on words and tugs Lovett’s arm until they get outside.

“Ugh. Well that was a bust-” Lovett sighs, leaning against the wall. “Sorry I was a shitty wingman tonight.”

Jon rolls his eyes. “I told you I didn’t need nor want a wingman.”

“Mmhmm,” Lovett looks him up and down.

“Whatever,” Jon shrugs. “Let’s just go home. You had that movie you said we should watch…”

“ _Interstellar_!” Lovett brightens and pushes off the wall. That’s when Jon sees the sign behind him: _Wet Paint_.

“Um, Lovett?”

“What?” Lovett turns.

“You’ve got um…”

“Fuck,” Lovett sighs, craning around to check the damage. “I’m never fucking going out again.”

Jon follows his painted back down the sidewalk. That doesn’t sound too terrible.

 

 

**4.** **I can walk to Starbucks.**

 

“Come on,” Lovett tugs at his wrist.

“Dude, I’m _busy_.” Jon pinches his nose, staring at his screen.

Lovett tugs again. “You’re literally staring at a blank word document in between fighting people on Twitter, you need to get the fuck out of this house.”

“If I come with you will you leave me alone?” Jon grumbles, but he stands up, grabbing for his sunglasses and “where’s my wallet?” Lovett waves it in front of him and tugs him forward. “God I’m _coming_.”

“Look,” Lovett says, walking backwards down the sidewalk in front of Jon’s house. “You’ve been locked away for _days_ for this deadline that isn’t even here yet and you’re turning into a mushroom from lack of exposure to the sun.”

“Lovett-”

“You really need to get a dog. But until we can manage that, _coffee_. And no you’re not getting an iced latte, it’s a fucking scam-” Jon sighs and gives in, feeling his shoulders relax in the sunshine and the comforting rhythm of Lovett’s well-worn rant.

“And I’m just saying, that if you’re going to bother-”

“Lovett!” Jon grabs his shoulder before he can walk backwards into traffic. “Jesus dude. Talk about a downer, please don’t die.”

“Aww, you’d miss me?” Lovett smirks.

_You have no idea how much_ , Jon thinks, as the walk light flicks on.

 

 

**5.** **I cannot walk or drive to Dunkin' Donuts because only one exists, in Santa Monica. This is so far the worst thing about LA.**

 

“Literally a wasteland,” Tommy grumbles as Jon locks the front door behind him. “How do you live here?”

“You manage,” Jon laughs, eyes on Lovett crossing the street to his driveway, loaded down with bags and towels and-

“Did either of you bring sunscreen? No of course you didn’t because you’re _morons_ ,” Lovett bitches, throwing a bottle at Tommy’s face.

“Fuck- Watch it-” Tommy says, too late, as the bottle hits his shoulder and bounces, opening and covering his t-shirt in lotion.

“Eh, looks good,” Lovett winks and Tommy groans.

“We gotta make a stop on our way to the beach,” Jon interrupts, shoving Tommy towards his car, knowing Lovett will follow them. “-so we’d better get going.”

“Why- what- you’re dragging me to the beach to begin with, _I_ certainly don’t have any need or interest to go to Santa Monica,” Lovett grumbles. “Shotgun.”

“Fuck you, my legs are longer,” Tommy says, but he doesn’t fight him for it, stretching out across the whole backseat. “We have to get serviceable coffee since you live in the uninhabitable wilderness.”

“My god-”

“It’s not _that far_ out of the way,” Jon placates, backing out. “You made me go further last week for fucking nachos.”

“They were worth it!” Lovett argues.

“Nothing is worth that drive,” Jon snarks back, but he knows he isn’t hiding the smile in his voice when Tommy catches his eyes in the rearview mirror, eyebrows raised.

 

 

**6.** **This isn't any more of an industry town than DC or San Francisco (or NY), and feels less so because it's more spread out.**

 

“I fucking hate these people,” Lovett says, grabbing Jon by his shirtsleeve and tugging him out onto the deck with so much force he almost spills the drinks in his hand.

“Here-” he holds out a glass to Lovett. “It’s… something.”

“Jon you shouldn’t take drinks from strangers without knowing what’s in them,” Lovett lectures, mocking.

“It was the bartender, chill,” Jon retorts, pushing at his shoulder. “And you were the one who said we had to be here.”

Here being a Hollywood party at somebody’s mansion in the hills, a studio exec maybe. Jon had been introduced, but he’d been busy watching the way Lovett shoved his fingers through his hair, a nervous gesture reminiscent of DC networking events when Lovett’s smile was even more fake than it is tonight. When the fake smile hadn’t been accompanied by the real one he throws Jon now.

“Needing to be here doesn’t mean I don’t hate these people,” Lovett sighs, leaning against the railing. The view is beautiful, even with the hazy summer night. The garden is landscaped and lit up and there’s a pool with a knot of people around it, but Jon’s distracted by the undone tie around Lovett’s neck, the hint of lipstick from an exuberant cheek kiss on his jaw. “But I think I’m done schmoozing now, I can hang out with the cool people.”

Jon looks around theatrically. “Where? Where are the cool people? Can I hang with your clique?”

“You are my clique,” Lovett laughs. He takes a sip of his drink. “If they didn’t poison me to get you to themselves, your bartender friend is pretty skilled.”

“If she poisoned you, I’d take you to the ER,” Jon says, leaning towards Lovett helplessly. He’s emboldened by the (very good) drinks and the way Lovett’s eyes looked when he said _cool people_. “I’m all yours.”

“Jon-” Lovett breathes. “You don’t-”

“I do,” Jon replies. Lovett looks hopeful, post-schmooze scowl gone. “I mean it. I am. If you-”

Lovett shakes his head, disbelieving. “Now? Here? How long? Fuck Jon of course I-”

“Lovett,” Jon says, as calming as he can manage. “Jon.”

Lovett kisses him and Jon _does_ drop his drink.

 

 

**7.** **This place looks like a ghost town before 10am. Maybe 11 on Saturdays.**

 

The sun is more than peeking through the curtains when Jon sits up. Leo woofs softly at his feet. “Yeah, I know, ‘m coming,” he mumbles.

“Shrghh,” Lovett mutters into his pillow. Jon smooths his hair down, only for the curls to pop back up.

“I’m just taking him out, I’ll be right back.”

It’s quiet outside, even though the microwave informed Jon it’s nearly nine o’clock when he walked through the kitchen. Leo sprints around the yard once, twice, then finds his spot and trots back to drop at Jon’s feet. Jon doesn’t move for a minute, taking in the stillness, the light reflecting off the neighbors windows, the hiss of sprinklers. The world is peaceful and hopeful and clean in the morning, just like Jon feels.

When he gets back to his bedroom, Lovett is sitting up against the pillows, blinking at Jon over his glasses. “It’s too early.”

“Go back to sleep then,” Jon says easily, kneeing up the bed towards him.

“Can’t,” Lovett pouts, pulling him in for a kiss. “Someone woke me up.”

“Hmmm, how dare he?” Jon murmurs into his neck.

“I dunno, but he should- fuck- make it up to me,” Lovett stutters as Jon pulls his boxers down and attempts to do just that.

They don’t have anywhere to be.

 

 

**8.** **I miss crowds and noise and speed and busyness so much less than I thought I would.**

 

“And then tomorrow we can try that sushi place, and I was thinking this weekend we should see-”

“Hey, Lovett, hey.” Jon grabs his hands, stilling the frantic calendar recitation. “Why don’t we just order in some shitty Chinese food tonight, we don’t need to go anywhere.”

“We- that’s boring!” Lovett says immediately, eyes jumping around the room.

Jon sighs. They’ve been together for almost a month and the last week and a half has been Lovett-the-cruise-director with endless activities and date nights. It’s bizarre and all he wants is a quiet night, just them.

“I mean, if you really want to go to-”

“Experimental eating experience!” Lovett puts in.

“ _Vegan_ experimental experience,” Jon corrects. “You hate vegan food. Come on Lovett, what’s up?”

“I-” Lovett twists his hands out of Jon’s grip. “I don’t know, I just thought we should like _do_ things! Isn’t that supposed to be-”

_Oh_. “Hey, I- Jon, look at me, I love doing things with you, I do!” Jon says earnestly, holding Lovett steady with a hand on his shoulder. “But I also love, you know, hanging out on your couch watching you yell at video games or lecture me about movies or- I just like being with you, I don’t care what we’re doing.”

“Yeah?” Lovett asks, face tight.

“Yeah,” Jon says firmly. “I’m not gonna get bored or whatever you think is happening, and if I want to do something I’ll tell you, yeah?”

Lovett shrugs. “Okay. Do you want one egg roll or two?” he asks, turning away to grab his phone.

“Two,” Jon watches him order, hang up, fidget with his phone, shift from foot to foot. “Hey,” he says, crossing to Lovett and gently tilting his face up until their eyes meet. “I just like being with you,” he repeats slowly. Deep breath. “Because I love you.”

Lovett’s eyes go wide. “I- god Jon I love you too.”

“Well that’s good,” Jon smiles, pulling him into a kiss that’s only broken when the doorbell rings.

 

 

**9\. I'** **ve found the paparazzi to be super chill and respectful of my space.**

 

“For the director?” The hostess asks, when Jon gives his name for dinner.

“Yes,” Lovett says immediately.

“No,” Jon corrects with a glare. “Just us.”

“Oh,” her face falls a little. “It’ll be about twenty minutes?”

“That’s fine,” Jon smiles, taking the buzzer she hands him. Lovett’s camera flash goes off in his face as he sits on the bench in the atrium. “What the-” his phone buzzes.

Lovett has sent a truly horrible photo of him, face overly lit, red eye like crazy, to their group chat with Tommy, Dan, Alyssa, Ben, and Cody. _Got stood up for dinner by a famous director, stuck with this inferior model instead_.

“Fuck you,” Jon laughs, kicking at his ankles.

“Just once- Just once Jonathan,” Lovett whines. “You never let me have any fun.

Jon rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say, babe.”

“Since we’re stuck waiting for a table like common people, you should give me my present early,” Lovett smirks, sitting down next to him, leg jittering with nervous energy.

“How did you-”

“Coat pocket, right?” Lovett winks. “You’re so bad at secrets. But it’s not even my birthday so I’ll allow it,” he grins as Jon fishes the flat, beribboned box out of his pocket. “Wait- it’s not like Sweetest Day or some other dumb commercial straight holiday is it?”

“No Lovett,” Jon chuckles. “Just-”

“This better not be a ring,” Lovett mutters as he tugs at it. Jon bites his lip. Not yet. “This- Jon this is your house key? I… have this already, except not patterned with the American flag did you mean this for Tommy or- _oh_ …”

“I think ninety percent of your shit is already in my living room, want to make it official?” Jon asks, hoping his voice isn’t shaking too much.

“Yes you sentimental dork,” Lovett kisses him. “I’ll move in with you. Even though you didn’t direct Iron Man.”

 

**10\. I** **feel no anxiety about avoiding work to sit outside and respond to a list request at 4:30pm on a Monday**

 

Pundit races for the tennis ball eagerly, tripping over herself through the yard. Leo is hiding in Jon’s lap for a brief respite while Jon procrastinates his column on various forms of social media.

“But like, a pool would be neat,” Lovett says from his perch on the edge of the deck. “The dogs would like it.”

“Would you ever go in it?” Jon laughs.

“Fuck you I totally would. You’d have to make time in your tanning schedule though.”

Jon rolls his eyes. “Maybe we should hold off on moving for a pool if the only point is for the dogs. We can go to Target this weekend and buy a kiddie pool for them.”

“With a swan shaped floatie?” Lovett asks hopefully.

“They’d pop it!”

“But we’d get _great_ pictures,” Lovett says. “Anyway, first I have to get through this pitch meeting tomorrow. Why do network people have no creativity I swear to god it’s like-”

Jon takes a long drink of his iced coffee and lets Lovett rant, punctuated by the occasional bark or car driving past. He makes noise at the appropriate points, more focused on Lovett, face pink in the fading sunlight, than the content of his nervous ramble. Leo shifts in his lap and snores contently. _I know bud,_ Jon thinks at him, twisting his fingers in Leo’s curls, _we’ve got it pretty good_.

 


End file.
